3 posts tagged “beatles”

Aki Clutterbuck reminded me of a subject that’s near and dear to the black, twisted, muck-encrusted little shriveled organ masquerading as my heart: words. I’m somewhat of a connoisseur of the bon mot, as proven by the fact that I’ve just used two French terms instead of English, simply because they were better suited for the point I was trying to make.

However, there’s a dark side to the love of words, and that’s the hatred of words. More specifically, the newer breed of media-friendly words that purport to identify and explain a trend, but do so in such an obtuse, ridiculous fashion that more emphasis is placed on the word itself than on the subject. For example: metrosexual. A portmanteau -- and by the way, what a lovely word that is, isn’t it? Portmanteau: the concatenation of two words to create a new word by combining their meanings, as in ‘smog’: smoke plus fog. The word portmanteau itself is pure honeyed delight, with its rounded ending and evocation of fine liqueur … words like these are heady pleasures whose effects linger both on the tongue and in the mind. But back to my topic – a portmanteau of ‘metropolitan’ and ‘sexuality’, the word ‘metrosexual’ was created to contain the concept of the 21st century Dandy, with his perfectly-coiffed hairstyle, reliance on up-to-date knowledge of the changing urban wardrobe, and slight leaning toward a more androgynous appearance, all in the name of Beauty.

However, it’s an ugly word. For one thing, ‘sexual’ will always connote physical urges, and a call to sensual action. There’s very little actual sex in fashion. Fashion might lead to sex, but it’s not at the heart of it, though Oscar Wilde, himself one of the greatest Dandies of all time, might disagree, and hilariously so. ‘Sexual’ also refers to predilection, as in ‘heterosexual’ or ‘homosexual’, where one declares an allegiance, or at least an affinity toward a gender. There is no such distinction in ‘metrosexuality’.

‘Metro’ also makes one think of the underground railway, with its squalor, rush of wind and unwholesome odors, cacophonous din, and sense of disconnected transience. From a purely euphonius standpoint, ‘metrosexual’ does not please. It does not carry poetry. And, perhaps most telling of all, it’s a term I’ve only ever heard used ironically, or in a sneering, mocking way. Hardly the legacy one would hope for!

All in all, ‘metrosexual’ is a horrid word, and it will receive no more mention in this audiocast. Ugh. Audiocast. Dammit, here we go again…

In her cap, she looked much older
And the bag across her shoulder
Made her look a little like a military man
-- “Lovely Rita”, the Beatles (yay)

This post is about my least favorite critter in the world: the Squid, Giant or Otherwise.

Okay. Okay. *deep, calming breaths* Seriously. Who needs all those legs? I can just barely handle the octopus with its 8 legs, but squid have 10! That's like... 4 more! But perhaps I'm being too reactionary. Maybe they evolved them in response to a pressing need to... what? Stir a lot of cake batter all at once? Massage a bunch of clients? Play both sides of a tennis match? Come on, Nature, there's no good gods-damned reason for this aberration of all that is Holy and Yummy!

"But Akela!" you say, "As one of Nature's creatures yourself, and one that, by all accounts, is widely feared and misunderstood, shouldn't you be more sympathetic to your fellow living beings?" Well, to that, I reply: How the hell did you get in my house? Secondly, get that thing out of your mouth. Thirdly, nice shoes... what're those, Jimmy Choo? Fourthly, can you scratch this itch between my shoulderblades? I just can't reach it. **leg spasms**

Okay. What were we talking about? Oh, yes, sympathy for a fellow beastie. Well, Margaret Friggin' Mead, I point you toward Exhibit A:

I mean, come ON! You can't seriously expect me to cuddle up to this thing like we're fellow Mensa members!

What in the Hell of the Telemarketers is going on here? WHO NEEDS ARMS THAT LONG? I'm thinking evolution went something like this:

"Hey, check me out, I'm this really horrible, hatchet-headed monstrosity with no discernable sensory organs! If people see me, they're likely to run in one direction for at least 10 minutes, and man am I hungry! No respectable fish, crab, or realistically edible animal is going to come anywhere near me. How will I eat? Hey, I know! *makes attempt to snap in sudden epiphany, but fails because of its nightmarish lack of bones* I'll slowly, over hundreds of years, develop in such a way that my arms will stretch out so far from my freakish body that no one will even know they belong to me! Sweet! My prey will wander into my clutches as unaware and innocent as a newborn lamb, a mammal of which I can't possibly know anything because we inhabit two completely different and separate worlds, but you catch my drift, invisible listener! MUAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!

"...

"Crap. How will I get it to my mouth?"

Whoa, I almost started to feel sorry for the benighted thing. I gotta nip that in the bud right now. Oh, and by the way, BEAKS? Why in the howling madness do they need beaks? I'm just barely able to entertain the idea that avians descended from reptiles... do I really need to see a connection between birds and squid? Imagine, if you will, this scene:

EXTERIOR, DAY: A barnacle-encrusted galleon plies its way through the choppy waters just off the coast of an island nation, a fearsome pirate captain at the helm. He's everything you expect in a scary buccaneer: wild beard, eyepatch, pegleg, and on his shoulder, echoing his every utterance, his beloved pet squid.

BLACKGOATEE
Avast, ye scurvy dogs! I'll keelhaul the lot o' ye if'n ye don't get this miserable wreck of a ship hightailin' toward clearer waters! Strike sail and set out for the Africas! What say ye, Polly?

POLLY
(muffled clacking)

BLACKGOATEE
(face in palm) Arr.

So, to sum up: Fewer legs are better. Bones are good. Beaks belong on birds. And for the love of all that is decent, have a freakin' FACE, people.

I'd like to be
Under the sea
In an Octopus's Garden, in the shade
"Octopus's Garden", The Beatles

I got this from Iris Ophelia's blog, and thought it was Neat-O. So for those of you who were a-hankerin' to know more about your Favorite Silly Wolfie (I'm looking at you, Mom), here it is:

[A is for age]
∞

[B is for booze of choice]
The squeezed-out tears of the participants of the Boxer Rebellion

[C is for career of choice]
Silly Wolfie Emeritus to the International Association of Wombat Barbers

[D is for your drug of choice]
Dimoxinol -- I'm actually naturally hairless

[E is for one essential item you use everyday]
The illusion that I have something worth saying

[F is for favorite song at the moment]
I like that one with the guy singing about that girl

[G is for favorite game]
Taunting PETA members into a murderous rage, then reminding them that I'm an endangered species

[H is for Hometown]
The sleeping minds of humanity

[I is for instruments you play]
I play the houka passably well, but I'm a Grandmaster on the Hollowed Frenula

[J is for favorite juice]
Diet Soylent Green (it's made from vegetarians)

[K is for kids]
Aww, baby goats are so cute and tasty!

[L is for last hug]
I hugged a bandersnatch the other day 'cause it was feeling down about how nobody believes in them anymore. I think it helped; he wandered off singing 'I Will Survive' by Gloria Gaynor

[M is for marriage?]
I'm married to the Sea. And the Mob. I mobbed the Sea. I've seen the Mob. I love my Mob and Pob, see? Icy. C is for Cookie, that's good enough for me. What was the question?

[N is for nickname]
*unprintable*

[O is for number of overnight hospital stays]
I can't go into hospitals anymore, since The Incident

[P is for phobias]
You know, for getting such a bum rap, I know quite a few phobias who are rather sweet. Triskadekaphobia is fun to have around, and a whiz at numbers. Ailurophobia can be a bit catty at times, but a solid fellow who will back you up in a fight. Blennophobia and I have become fast friends thanks to what happened in my last post. Get to know your fears, chilluns; they're not all bad!

[Q is for quote]
"There's nothing like the threat of extinction to force evolution"

[R is for biggest regret]
The Biggest Regret would have to be Josiah Q. Regret, of the Hampton Regrets. He's, what, 7 foot 8?

[S is for singing]
Actually, 'S' is for 'singeing'. I have nothing to do with that

[T is for time you woke up]
I woke up when the first bicameral mind became aware of itself, and I've been bouncing around ever since. Thank you, Evolution!

[U is for underwear]
Under where? I'm all nekkid all the time!

[V is for vegetable you love]
George W. Bush. I love him like I love all my retarded children

[W is for worst habit]
Shnorgling

[X is for number of x-rays you've got]
I used to have a drawer full of ex-rays, some manta, some sting

[Y is for yummy food you make]
I'm at the other end of that spectrum. I only eat yummy food, not make it. Though lately I've had the urge to start being creative... hmm... Fire Ant Soup? Leafy Green Wedgetables? Mammoth Nose Surprise? Frothy Kinkajou Sweat? Peppermint-flavored Carbonated Milk?

[Z is for zodiac sign]
Wheelbarrow. Wait, which zodiac were you talking about?

Tell me that you've got everything you want
And your bird can sing
But you don't get me
You don't get me
-- "And Your Bird Can Sing", The Beatles (yay)